Our bodies are “composite and illusory.” What does that mean? This body of ours is a temporary union of the Five Elements—earth, water, fire, wind, and space. Ask a practitioner of traditional Chinese medicine or a scientist studying the human body: essentially, our body is nothing more than a combination of these elements. When we die, they disperse—nothing remains. To call it illusory means it cannot be relied upon. Who can guarantee their body will always remain healthy? Who can say their back will never ache? Who can be sure the hair that grows today won’t fall out tomorrow? Who can claim they’ll never develop wrinkles? And who can promise they’ll never die? All these impermanent things are illusions—they are not lasting entities. Yet people make the mistake of treating this illusory body as though it were real. When they’re happy, they go travelling; when they’re sad, they don’t even want to live. With good health, they feel capable of anything; when unwell, they feel unable to do anything. All these material conditions are illusory.
Many people are obsessed with their physical body, thinking, “I’ve got to keep it this way or that way.” But in the end, what can you actually do with it? Your body is just a burden. Without this body, would you feel pain? If someone strikes your spirit-body, you won’t feel pain—only a faint sensation. Why do you ache here and there now? Because you’re weighed down by this cumbersome body. It’s not just a burden—it’s filthy as well. Can you go even a single day without washing? This “stinking skin-bag,” as it’s called, is what people go to such lengths to protect. But in truth, the body is just that—a stinking skin-bag, a temporary vessel for living in the Human Realm. You can’t take it with you, and you can’t preserve it. If it weren’t part of you, you’d have thrown it away long ago. Take an apple, for example. Leave it out for a week or two, and the skin wrinkles—who would eat it? Everyone picks the freshest, juiciest ones. When we grow old and our faces wrinkle, it’s the same as that apple. Can we bear to throw it away? No—because we think, “It’s mine.”
I speak plainly and directly. Don’t waste your energy chasing things that won’t last. What you should be pursuing is your spirit, your soul—that’s what’s truly noble. Someone may dress beautifully, but if their spirit is filthy, they remain filthy. Look at many celebrities—glamorous on the outside, but when their scandals are exposed, it’s revolting. So remember: what we should seek is something formless, deeply noble—the compassionate and grateful heart that arises from within. That is what you must preserve.
Next, let me explain the concept of “conditioned phenomena.” Your body is not something you should regard as real. Conditioned phenomena refers to things in the Human Realm, including our physical form—all dharmas that arise due to conditions and exist with a purpose. They have motives, functions, and benefits. But precisely because they are conditioned, they are not ultimate Dharma. For example, Australian law is made for the benefit of its government and people—that’s conditioned phenomena. But why do we have international law? Because it looks beyond the interests of a single country, addressing humanity as a whole. In the same way, learning Mahāyāna Buddhism means not clinging to “my body, my home, my family, my possessions,” but instead focusing on saving and awakening sentient beings. Everyone has a spirit, a shared essence. That is why we must cultivate great compassion towards all beings, recognising that we are one unified body. All conditioned phenomena are impermanent—nothing lasts forever. Can you keep your parents forever? Your spouse or children? Your own body? When you’re hungry, you might say, “I haven’t eaten all day,” then eat a big meal and feel full. In that moment, are you satisfied? Yes. But the next morning, don’t you still eat breakfast—unless your stomach is unwell? Why? Because the food has already been digested. That’s the nature of conditioned phenomena: they arise and pass away.
Everything in the world demonstrates the wondrous existence within true emptiness. What is “true emptiness”? Think of vacuum packaging—it removes all the air inside, leaving only the “real” thing. Imagine placing a large wool quilt in a plastic bag and vacuum-sealing it—something huge shrinks down to a fraction of its size. Once the air is removed, it collapses, showing that even air occupies space. And what about people? If you stripped away the skin, bones, flesh, and fat, what would remain but a skeleton? That is why we say everything exists wondrously within true emptiness. In truth, the world we live in is an illusion; everything is empty—so why cling to it so stubbornly? True emptiness means living in a real world. For example, many young monks feel desire when they see a pretty woman. Do you know how senior monks guide them? They say, “When you see a beautiful woman, imagine her in old age, her skin sagging, her flesh gone, until all you see is a skeleton. Imagine also the filth and impurities within her body.” By showing them this way, they are guided to see through appearances, to perceive the wondrous existence of true emptiness. Once they realise what a “beautiful” woman really is, their desire fades and they stop chasing after her. It may be a harsh method, but it helps them in their practice.
Previously, I told you: when a person is born, they naturally have desires for food and sex. That is unavoidable. But you must use wisdom to manage these desires, not crude methods to make things seem ugly. Let me give you an example. A child has diarrhoea. The mother brings home a watermelon but won’t let him eat it. The child insists, so she frightens him, saying: “There are bad things inside the watermelon—if you eat it, such and such will happen.” She makes it sound terrible. Will the child stop eating after hearing that? Probably not, because he can’t directly feel the danger. Instead, she should explain clearly: “If you eat it, your stomach will hurt even more.” Or she can distract him with something else and promise he can eat it tomorrow, then quietly remove the watermelon. Our thoughts are always shifting, always changing—and so are these illusory things around us. Today your mood might stir up anger, tomorrow it might bring joy. This shows how unreal emotions are. Humans are pitiable—we are always pushed around by external conditions. When circumstances are favourable, we feel happy. But we’re always being controlled by something intangible. Everything in this world is constantly changing. What I want you to pursue is something unchanging.
Next, let’s talk about going along with conditions without obstacles. When you follow the natural course of things, nothing holds you back. Say you’re upset with your son or daughter-in-law. If you let go and go with the flow, treating them politely, the tension disappears, doesn’t it? But if you refuse to adapt, dwelling on how they ignored you or treated you poorly, what happens? The obstacles pile up, and you’re the one who suffers. You must learn to let things go—everything is temporary and illusory. Just think: as long as I have my Master, when I pass away, I’ll ascend to the heavens. How joyful is that! In the heavens, you won’t have this smelly, aching body. The pains you feel now come only because your soul inhabits this physical body, and that’s what suffers. Why do people need anaesthesia? Think about the dentist—the “zzz-zzz-zzz” of the drill. Painful, isn’t it? Just thinking about it can make your teeth ache. But once your teeth are gone and you wear dentures, do you still feel pain? No. In the end, when you leave this world, even your natural teeth are only temporary. The pain you feel now comes from this “stinking skin-bag”—your flawed body. Once you leave it behind, only your original spirit remains. Will that feel pain? No. This is the point I want you to grasp. I like to use everyday examples to awaken people. That’s how you live freely—by letting go of what you thought was real. Someone treats you badly? Let it go. Furniture no good? Throw it out. Boss unfair? Leave and find another job. If the old doesn’t go, the new won’t come. What must be discarded must be discarded. If you refuse, you’re like an antiques dealer—clinging to old relics. Antiques may look nice to show off, but what real use are they? Worse, they can attract spirits. You must cast aside false things. When the false is taken as real, even the real becomes false.
In Buddhist practice, we must break through the view of an existent body. The body is simply our physical sensations and perceptions, which feel very real to us. For example, with this flesh-body we can feel the wind, we can see the light—because the body exists. But without this body, how would you recite sutras? Without a mouth, could you recite aloud? And if you rely only on the mind, how many of you could sustain it all the way through? This addresses a question some of you have asked: can we cultivate the mind or recite sutras in the heavens or the Underworld? Here’s your answer. Try now: keep your mouth still and recite only in your mind. Can you keep it going from start to finish? Relying on the spirit alone, without the physical body, makes it nearly impossible. That’s why people in the heavens find it hard to cultivate further—without a body, they’re only enjoying blessings. Here in the Human Realm, I need a body in order to teach you. If I had no body, you’d only hear a disembodied voice, and that would frighten you. I need this body, and my mouth, to produce sound and recite sutras. There’s even a Buddhist practice where you focus your mind by listening to your own chanting voice. The spirit does a lot of work within the body—it governs many functions—but you must understand that cultivation requires a body in the Human Realm. Breaking through the view of an existent body means seeing through the illusion of the flesh and seeking your true nature.
The Human Realm is the best place for cultivating the mind, so grasp the opportunity! Consider the Chinese character for “thought” (念). It’s made of two parts: “now” (今) at the top and “heart/mind” (心) at the bottom. “Now” here means that everything we do in this very moment arises from karmic conditions and fleeting reflections. Life is like a shadow—nothing truly exists on its own; it is all the result of causes and conditions. If in a past life you performed good deeds, you left behind a “shadow,” and in this life, that shadow reflects your goodness. If in a past life you committed wrongs, that shadow reflects those misdeeds. Stand in the bright sun and your body casts a radiant shadow, shining like beams of light. Stand under the pale moon at dusk, and a dark shadow appears. Doing good is like standing in the sunlight—your shadow shines brilliantly, like a rainbow. Doing evil is like standing in the dim light of the moon—your shadow grows heavy and dark. So today, whatever you do, do it wholeheartedly. Only then can your thoughts be pure and true, and only then can body and mind unite as one.